


with a thousand words to say but one

by Notawriterjustalurker



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, F/M, Heartache, Hurt/Comfort, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Near Death Experiences, POV Matt Murdock, Post-Season/Series 03, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notawriterjustalurker/pseuds/Notawriterjustalurker
Summary: He should have heard it. Why didn't he hear it?He throws his head back, praying to some entity above for this not to be real -Not Karen. Not Karen.But the bullet's in her side and it's torn a path through her muscle, her ligaments, her organs. It's buried deep in her flesh and it's causing her so much pain -"It's okay -- you're okay. Stay with me," he pants desperately and futility as he hears her lungs strain under shallow breaths, crushed by the pressure of blood flowing into the cavities inside her.He pushes on the wound and the hot liquid fills the gaps between his fingers - he's trying to hold on to her but it's impossible, like trying to hold onto smoke in the cold night air, there's nothing there to grasp, it's all disappearing so quickly and all he can think is, not again.Please God, not again.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Karen Page
Comments: 11
Kudos: 36





	with a thousand words to say but one

The gunshot cracks through the air like a wip against steel. Matt knows the sound well. Bullet, ripping into flesh, taking life without a second thought, a tiny heated fragment of metal, indifferent and unfeeling in its destination. 

He hears her crying out, hitting the ground. The gunman's still standing. He tackles him first, a hard kick into his rib cage that sends his body into a wall and the gun sliding along the dampened sidewalk. 

_He should have heard it. Why didn't he hear it?_

He throws his head back, praying to some entity above for this not to be real - 

_Not Karen. Not Karen._

But the bullet's in her side and it's torn a path through her muscle, her ligaments, her organs. It's buried deep in her flesh and it's causing her so much pain - 

"It's okay -- you're okay. Stay with me," he pants desperately and futility as he hears her lungs strain under shallow breaths, crushed by the pressure of blood flowing into the cavities inside her.

He pushes on the wound and the hot liquid fills the gaps between his fingers - he's trying to hold on to her but it's impossible, like trying to hold onto smoke in the cold night air, there's nothing there to grasp, it's all disappearing so quickly and all he can think is, not again.

Please God, not again.

Hot tears are soaking through his mask as he lifts her head up, encouraging her to stay awake, "helps coming sweetheart - just - don't,"

And she chokes out his name, it initiates a silent cry from his throat as he hushes her, he wants her to save her energy for what's coming, he can feel it - death has its claws around her ankles and it's dragging her towards the darkness- dragging her away from him - he knows he can't save her this time.

* * *

"Where is she?" 

Foggy grabs his arm and tries to hold him back.

"They're bringing her out of surgery now. She's -" 

"She's what?" Matt snaps, "is she okay?"

"They said she's stable, but Matt.. she's lost a lot of blood. They said it could be - " Foggy can't even bring himself to say it. 

He breathes deep and paces. He wants to punch something. He wants to tear a hole in the earth and keep digging until he reaches somewhere else, some other place where this isn't happening, where Karen isn't in pain. Where Karen isn't dying.

Claire's voice calls softly from the end of the corridor, "you can come see her."

And as soon as he enters the room the tears threaten him again. There's a machine breathing for her, keeping her alive, and it's beeping incessantly, a reminder of how delicately balanced everything is.

"She's in hypovolemic shock." Claire says, matter of factly. 

"What's - how bad -" Foggy prys for an answer in english.

"It means she's lost a lot of blood and we're trying to stop her going into organ failure. We'll need to monitor her until she's out of the woods. The bullet also caused quite a bit of damage to her liver." 

He is listening to Claire. He can hear it all, but he's distracted when he reaches down to touch Karen's hand, her fingers lumbered with clumsy bits of plastic that are monitoring her vital signs, reading everything about her that he already can in a single breath.

A searing pain grips his throat, his senses are usually so attuned to Karen that her presence is nearly always deafening to him. It's hard to believe she's lying just inches away - 

"She's .. she's barely there." he says, Foggy, finally letting out the sob he's been holding down since he walked into the room.

"I want to tell you she'll be okay but - "

"You'd be lying." Matt nods.

Claire's arms wrap around him and he reluctantly lays his head into the crook of her shoulder. "If there's anything you need. Anything." 

* * *

Theres no day and night anymore, all the hours in the day are the same, the smell of bleach and latex seems to have stained his nostrils and all he can hear is the thrum of the ward and all the people in it, the confined space only magnifying the groans and wails of grief and death and suffering.

He hates hospitals.

But he tries to drown it out. Just like he was taught as a boy, and instead he focuses on Karen, checking that her lungs are still filling with air and her heartbeat, although faint, still beats, alive in her chest. That's all that matters now.

Foggy visits everyday for a few hours and Matt sees that as his cue to leave. They still haven't had that conversation yet, the one where he asks with accusing eyes how it happened. 

_You were there Matt. How did you -_

Fogwell's Gym has been his only sanctuary in his brief time away from the hospital, he lets his anger out there - pounding his fists onto leather until they're raw and bleeding and it's just about enough to keep him sane for the time being.

Claire sits with him for a while after every shift, she's become his literal shoulder to cry on. He can't say what he'd do without her, he owes her a debt that he doesn't think is payable in the lifetime of one man, but he takes some comfort knowing that angels do in fact exist on earth, because he's met one - she wears scrubs and she calls him an idiot.

Tonight feels like a particularly bad night. It's the first night where he's even considered the possibility that she won't wake up. He leans over her from his chair at her bedside, his palm gliding over her hair, circling his thumb over her cheek. She doesn't know that he's there, she's just existing, faintly, like a shadow, a ghost.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart," he whispers, "I've failed you."

And there it is. The first time he's said it out loud. The truth cuts through his chest like a blade, his lungs lift and heave as he hangs his head onto the mattress. He doesn't remember the last time he's cried like this. 

His fingers find her hand again, "I can't -, " his sob shakes through his words, "I can't do this alone Karen. You can't leave me. You can't." 

And he's thinking of all the things he should have said, all the happiness he could have given her. If he'd known that she might have only had until today he'd have said it all in heartbeat.

"I know you can't hear me," he whispers again, "but I need you to make it. You can't - you can't go."

Every inch of him wills her, his fingers trail up her arm seeking the feel of her skin as if, by some twisted miracle his touch might awaken her and bring her back to him.

"You know.. I was always so scared," he breathes, "all the time - so damn scared of everything. I'm scared now Karen." He blinks away some of the tears and lets out a sorrowful chuckle, "and you.. God, you were always so brave. Always. _Always."_

His lips ghost over her pale knuckles "God, I should have told you."

 _Forgive me_.

* * *

  
That night, he remembers something Father Lantom once said to him: _"Guilt can be a good thing."_ He said _. "It's the soul's call to action._ _The_ _indication that something is wrong. The only way to rid your heart of it is to correct your mistakes and keep going until amends are made."_

It stings now just as it did then. The realisation he could have done more - said more, that might be too late to amend any of this. He's about to go out into the night for air, unable to stand a second longer in this sterile prison without putting a hole through the wall with his fist - but then, he hears a faint sound, and it's subtle at first, it's only slightly irregular against the pattern of robotic breathing he's gotten used to. The next thing he hears is clearer though - the sound of heavy eyelids trying to prise themselves open, then finger tips, curling gently against crumpled bed sheets -

She was waking up. 

* * *

"You really don't need to do this, I can manage myself at my place" 

He's carrying her up the stairs to his apartment in his arms, "you say that like this is optional," he smiles as he reaches his already open front door.

"Surprise!" The cheers fill Matt's apartment, Foggy and Marci are there, Mitchell Ellison too, and there's an entire table full of gifts and flowers and delicious smelling home cooked food.

"Oh guys!" her hands cover her mouth, "you shouldn't have," Matt places her feet on the floor carefully making sure to keep her weight supported over his shoulder.

"Welcome back sweetie," Marci says as she kisses her cheek.

"You know you're hundred percent cooler now you've been shot right?" Foggy tries to joke through his tears.

"Why do you think I went through all this?" She jokes right back. And his arms wrap around her tight.

Mitchell stays back hesitantly, "taking a bullet for a story is pretty badass," he says.

Karen chuckles, "it was probably long overdue, but I'm not planning on making a habit of it."

He smiles,"I'm glad you're back Karen, you gave us all quite a scare," and her unsure feet carry her over to him too.

***

"I spoke to your dad and let him know you're out of hospital" Matt says later as he's putting her to bed.

"You spoke to him?" 

In truth he'd done more than speak to him, he'd met him, shared sorrow with him at Karen's bedside while she was still under. He'd prayed into her unconscious palm and Matt had heard every, single, solemn word, saying that he was sorry, saying that he forgave her, that he couldn't lose another child. Then he'd said _"I'm glad she had a man like you Matthew_." And he hadn't bothered to correct him, instead he'd promised he'd look after her and he'd let him type his number into his phone. Of course, he'd tell Karen all of that later, but not now, now wasn't the time.

"He's just pleased you're okay. We'll talk about it later. You need to rest first." 

It turns out being in a coma for a week doesn't count as sleep, neither does the sleep that comes after you wake, in an unfamiliar hospital bed with your senses dulled by an endless cocktail of painkillers. So it was hardly surprising that the first few days Karen spent at his apartment all she really did was rest. Today was the first day she'd actually woken up early so Matt had taken the opportunity to quietly slip out before she knew he was awake.

"I can smell something delicious," she calls though from the bedroom where she's propped her back up against the pillows.

"You have a good nose Miss Page," he answers, and he makes his way through to see her with the thin piece of ribbon wrapped around his finger.

"I got you something. It's got a monkey on it," he says, holding the balloon out to her, her face blooming into a smile.

"It's actually a giraffe," she laughs, holding her side.

"Oh."

"Thank you Matt. Really."

"Ah. It's the least I could do." 

She laughs again, "Not for the balloon. For being there. For looking after me." 

The words sting a little. He definitely doesn't feel like he deserves to be thanked."It's my fault Karen. I let it happen."

He hears her sigh,"You still haven't learned have you? I'd put myself in danger whether you were there or you weren't. It's not on you."

That's true and he knows it, but it doesn't give him much comfort, "I thought I was gonna lose you," he says.

"But you didn't."

He sits close to her on the edge of the bed and she takes his hand in hers, lacing her fingers between his.

"There's some things -" he starts to speak but the words are all scrambled up in his throat which has all but swollen shut with emotion,"there's things… things I need to say to you, Karen."

And he thinks maybe a kiss would be easier. He's always been better at showing than telling. He places one on her forehead and she sighs into it, her eyes glazing over with moisture as a salty trail travels over the curve of her cheek.

She runs her thumb under his chin and brings his lips to hers, breathing him in fully, kissing him needily until the dam in her throat finally gives way to the floods of tears she's been holding back.

" _Just_ -" she tries to help him reach for it, feeling the words on the edge of his tongue just as he does, she pushes her hand hard through his thick hair.

"Karen, I love you. " He says finally, and he kisses her again, _"I love you_."

She smiles through tears against his mouth, "Oh Matt."

"I'm sorry, I'm so--" his lip trembles and he tries to still it against hers, his hands curving around her cheek, scrunching up in her hair.

"Don't you be sorry. Okay? You can't be sorry you hear," she sniffles and pulls away for a moment to trace her fingers over his temple, feeling her looking deep into his eyes, "You're a good man Matt, a _good_ man," she breathes, "you had my heart the minute I met you. You'll never lose it. Never." Their kiss is hungry but weary, he feels a tear drip from his chin and alight on her chest as he snatches a breath from the air between their lips, turning his head to slip his tongue into her mouth.

"Will you lie with me?" she asks: he wants nothing more. She slides back against the pillows and he moves to lie along her side, his forearm sliding over her waist, being careful not to press on her still-healing wound. It moves up to lie between her breasts, his hand resting just over her heart, his head tucked into the crook of her shoulder. Just being this close to her soothes his soul - quiets the static. She's his remedy. A drug of the best kind. And he doesn't know how long he lies there with her, teetering on the edge of sleep, but when he finally hears her stirring again she's craving a different kind of touch. She coaxes him back up to her lips and slips her hand underneath his t-shirt seeking his skin, seeking his mouth, his cock. And even though her bodys still bruised and healing he knows this is what she needs and he knows there'll be plenty of time to give her everything he's got later. Right now, he can be gentle. He can still make her feel good, she deserves that at least. He slips her underwear off and shifts between her legs, worshipping her skin as he goes. And she's got a firm grip of his hair as he moves inside her, his name coming thick and fast like a chant, colouring her lips as she falls apart around him.

To hear how her heart sings now, with him, for him, when a few weeks ago it was only a whisper. It sends him over the edge into bliss with her, his body molding into hers as he muffles his cries of pleasure into her shoulder.

He's starting to think, maybe, just maybe he _can_ fix this. 

He can save her after all.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Let it be known that I cried real tears while writing this 😭😂 hope you guys enjoyed ❤️


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